Of Quidditch Players and Scoring
by mary-v
Summary: Rita Skeeter, a “news”paper article and Rival Quidditch players groping his wife make Harry a very jealous boy.


_GINEVRA POTTER, UNFAITHFUL?_

_Daily Prophet Correspondent Rita Skeeter_

_That's right loves. You've heard it first from this devilishly handsome reporter. My sources tell me (as do my own eyes) that Ginevra Potter was seen cavorting with _WitchWeekly_'s Most Eligible Bachelor, Kris Meestern of Puddlemere United. It seems having her very own Seeker (and Auror!) was not enough for this Chaser, she seems to want to take on a Beater. Makes one wonder just how fiery Ginny _really_ likes it. Meestern's captain, Keeper Oliver Wood, when asked for a comment merely laughed at the insinuations. Well, I doubt he'd be laughing so hard if he'd seen the incriminating image of the lovely couple, dancing together at the _All Star Quidditch Benefit for the Children Foundation_. Mr Potter was peculiarly missing from the party, which leads this reporter to believe that there may be trouble in the Potter Paradise. Cont'd page B6. _

Harry slammed the newspaper down onto the table, after having seen the image of Ginny laughing and dancing with that prat, Criquet or Christian or whatever the hell his name was. He pulled out his wand and set fire to the paper, angry at himself and at Skeeter. He really hated acting irrational, and he knew Ginny would have kicked him in the shin and told him to get over himself if she was with him, but she wasn't there. She was away, at a game, playing against Puddlemere United. She was in the same vicinity as that Meestern character, and he didn't like it one bit. He got up, his chest heaving, and pounded up the stairs to the shower, pretending each stair was a particularly sensitive part of Meestern's anatomy. 

--

"Oi! Harry! You here, mate?" Ron's voice rang through the house, as he settled himself in the kitchen, helping himself to a Butterbeer. He noticed ashes on the table and raised his eyebrow at Harry who had just walked into the room. He'd obviously not bothered drying his hair at all, since water was dripping down his neck onto his shirt, leaving it damp.

"You alright, mate?" Ron asked, and Harry's glare was answer enough. Harry fell into the kitchen chair, grabbing a drink and swallowing it all in one go.

"Bloody Skeeter and the bloody _Prophet_ and bloody Quidditch players who can't keep their hands off my wife." Harry kept muttering under his breath as Ron smiled into the rim of his drink, amused at how miserable Harry sounded.

"Really Harry. You do know we're talking about Ginny here?" Harry nodded his head, knowing that Ginny would have pummeled anyone who'd try something before he could even think about letting his overprotective hackles rise. Still, it was frustrating, to say the least; he hadn't seen her in close to 2 weeks, what with their conflicting schedules, and he _missed_ her. He had left on an Auror mission, and upon his return, Ginny was already in Glasgow for the Children's benefit and for the semi-final game for the England Cup. Watching her dance with another man didn't make bearing the separation any easier.

"Anyways, as if she'd give up the celebrity she already has for another one." Harry threw his towel at Ron's face, satisfied as his friend fell off his chair to avoid the towel's strike. 

"Ow. Thanks mate. Anyways, the game's about to start, you want to put it on while I bring the drinks?" Harry nodded, padding into the living room and turning on the wireless. The usual advertisements were playing, including the one for Celestina Warbeck's comeback tour (he and Ginny had bought Mrs Weasley tickets to the concert for her birthday) and the Days of Destiny season premier marathon to air later that week. Ron and Harry were on the edge of their seat, listening to the game. The Harpies were leading by 50 points, but the snitch had already been spotted. As Lee Jordan announced that Ginny had scored yet another goal, his voice rose in pitch and excitement as he described the two seekers going head to head for the snitch.

"_Randall and Aniston are neck and neck! It's a mad dive for the snitch, both of them setting new records, I'm sure, with the breakneck speeds they're going at .If they don't pull out I'm not sure they won't actually break their necks. Bu- ANISTON HAS MANAGED TO CATCH THE SNITCH, VERY NEARLY COLLIDING INTO THE GROUND WITH RANDALl! HARPIES WIN! FIVE HUNDRED FORTY TO THREE HUNDRED NINENTY!" _

A mad cheer echoed around the pitch and Harry and Ron couldn't help themselves as they joined in the excitement, letting out hoarse cries of pride and relief. Harry's joy was short lived, however, as another announcer started the post-game description. 

"…_Randall is being attended by Mediwizards as we speak. The Harpies are flying victory laps around the pitch, and Kris Meestern seems to be trying to flag them down. Or maybe he's just trying to get Ginevra Potter's attention…" _

Harry smashed the butterbeer bottle in his hand. What the _hell_ did Meestern want with his wife? Ron looked at Harry in alarm. He pulled out his wand and cleaned up the mess, watching as his friend wallowed in anger. As the two of the sat in silence, Ron kept trying to distract Harry to no avail. Three hours later, right when Harry had about had enough and was ready to head off to Glasgow himself, Ginny's exhausted form was finally home. She gave a loud sigh and called out Harry's name. Harry wasted no time in storming up to her. Her smile quickly vanished as she watched her husband wearily.

"Hi Ginny." Ron said, feeling completely out of place. He walked up to her and gave her a proud hug.

"Congratulation on winning, Gin. Though as much as I'd love to stay and chat, Hermione's expecting me home soon for dinner. " Ginny clung to her brother 's hand, and tugged at it, as if to ask what was wrong with Harry, but Ron shook his head inconspicuously and quickly vanished through the Floo grate.

"Aren't you going to welcome your champion home, Harry?" Ginny asked, in an attempt to lighten the mood. Harry surveyed her for a few moments and finally smiled, holding her to him. No matter how ridiculous his mood may have been earlier, seeing Ginny was like taking a breath of fresh air. He'd longed to hold her for weeks now, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity pass him by. He took a deep breath, taking in as much of her as possible: the flowery smell of her hair, the light odor of Champagne floating through her mouth, the sweat that still clung to her skin. Harry didn't think he'd ever been so intoxicated by her very presence. Ginny seemed to feel the same way as she clung to him tightly, her hands grazing his back, deep breaths making her chest rise and fall against his in the most _wonderful_ way. They stayed like that for a few moments, simply drinking each other in until they were interrupted by a head clearing its throat in the fireplace. Harry looked over and stiffened, his anger coming back full force.

Kris Meestern.

"Erm… sorry to interrupt, but Ginny you left without telling me where you wanted to meet for supper next week."

"Oh, right." She said, slightly disoriented. "How about the Three Broomsticks?"

"Perfect! See you then." Harry felt the blood pulse through his veins and his hackles rise as Krass or Krissie or _whatever the hell _his name was smiled at them in goodbye. 

"Supper?" Harry asked, his voice low and aggravated as Meestern's head vanished. Ginny looked at him, seeming to finally catch onto what was bothering him.

"I imagine you read the lovely update into my scandalous love life Rita Skeeter didn't hesitate to inform the world with, then? Do I _really_ need to remind you exactly who you're dealing with, Harry?" Harry wasn't sure if she meant herself or Skeeter, but Meestern's face in his floo grate was enough to convince him that he was up to no good.

"What I'd like to know is how he can't leave you well enough alone. You've spent the past week with him and his team, frolicking at parties and dancing with him."

"You _cannot_ be serious, Harry! He's just a friend of mine. Am I suddenly not allowed to have friends? If I stop playing with Neville and Colin then can I start playing with Kris?" Ginny's mocking tones were like needles piercing him.

"You can have as many friends as you want as long as they don't go 'round groping you at fancy Balls, then laughing with their friends at how they managed to get their… picture splayed all over the Gossip columns with you." Harry had quickly changed his sentence, knowing that no matter how irrational he was acting at the moment, he knew Ginny. Still, he knew he said the wrong thing as he could practically feel Ginny's fury coming off of her in waves as she slowly started to turn red.

"Excuse me?" She articulated every syllable, her voice deceptively quiet. "I don't know when you forgot how to _read _but Rita Skeeter wrote that article. You _know_ that she only prints lies and half truths. This benefit was part of my contract, so I couldn't exactly skip it just so I could appease my juvenile husband's petty fits of jealousy!"

"You were dancing with bloody Kris Meestern! I don't see how that's part of your job! You play Quidditch, and last time I checked that did not entail dancing with your team's _rivals_."

"Oh well that's really wonderful, Harry. It's good to know you trust me." Her sarcastic voice bit at him as she turned away from him in spite. "What did you expect me to stay seated at my table and drink water all night? Since when did dancing with a _friend_ turn into a crime?"

"It's not _you _I don't trust, Ginny. It's those bloody Quidditch players, thinking how they'd love to cop a feel"

"Harry," Ginny walked up to him, grabbing his hand and putting a hand on his cheek "you know that if they ever try to pull something like that, they'll have bats coming out of their nose before they could even contemplate yelping from the pain of my kicking them in their privates." Harry's posture released some of his tension as he ran his thumb across her palm. "And either way, Kris wouldn't dare try anything. He's proposing to his girlfriend and he just wants some of my advice. We were in the same year at Hogwarts… he was a Hufflepuff, don't you remember him?" Harry shook his head in bewilderment until he finally remembered the scrawny Chaser who always managed to break through Gryffindor defenses. He felt another twinge of annoyance, only this time it stemmed from the old school rivalries.

"Besides," Ginny continued, oblivious to Harry's thoughts, "you should be _smug_. You're the only one that gets to grope me, and last time I checked it's been an _awfully_ long time since you have." Harry's breathing quickened, and he bent his head down, his lips centimeters from hers. 

"Really? So I shouldn't feel threatened by the handsome Quidditch players, running after you?" Harry marveled at how stupid he'd been acting, the second he uttered that sentence. 

"You prat. You're the only Quidditch player I've ever wanted." And with that she tilted her head upwards and kissed him, and Harry kissed her back, unhesitant and with much ardor. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs, and he forgot all about Crane Meestern. Or was it Kreesa?

----

_A.N.: "If I stop playing with Neville and Colin then can I start playing with Kris?"_ May or may not be ripped borrowed from a line Rachel may or may not have said to Ross in season 3 of _Friends, _(TOW With Phoebe's ex-Partner) about Mark. And I thought the opportunity may or may not have been too good to pass up. Hehe.


End file.
